Weighted
by TheAngelStrikesBack
Summary: So the Reapers were destroyed. Was the enemy really killed, or did we simply create a new one? We can stand tall and believe that everything will be sunshine and roses for everyone, but it won't. You know it won't. We won't have our happiness, or our dreams, or the lives we once wanted. At the end of the world, all we have is our memories. (Post Destroy, sequel to "Waiting")
1. Why We Grow Old

A/N: Hello, ladies and gentlemen, and happy August! For those of you who don't know, this is a sequel to a story I made over a year ago, (_a year ago...seriously..._), titled "Waiting". It was about the C-Sec officer and refugee teenager that you can overhear in the third Mass Effect game. While you don't have to read it to understand this particular work, I would highly suggest doing so, since there are a few plot points that come from the previous entry. If there are grammar/spelling errors, I apologize; I can only stare at something for so long before I have the thing memorized and I stop noticing mistakes, (lol). Feel free to point out any errors, though, and I'll get to fixing them. :) Oh, and cultural phrases...Yeah, I have a tendency to use those too often.

tl;dr version: This takes place after the destroyed ending. Stuff goes down, etc. Enjoy!

* * *

Weighted

"_Organics will be perfected by integrating fully with synthetic technology. Synthetics, in turn, will finally have full understanding of organics. It is the ideal solution. Now that we know it is possible, it is inevitable we will reach synthesis."_

"_Why couldn't you do it sooner?"_

"_We have tried...a similar solution in the past. But it has always failed."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because the organics were not ready. It is not something that can be...forced."_

Chapter One

[Why] We Get Old

The light of an orange sun caressed the landscape in shades that resembled fire, setting the normally blue sky ablaze. It was an average morning for the facility; workers for the day shift were rousing from their sleep to replace those who were heading back to their own beds and groaned at the humdrum of another long rotation. On the plus side, however, a new shipment of Alliance soldiers was coming to fill in some of the time.

It had been four years since Reapers suddenly fell apart in a wave of red light and the civilizations of the galaxy were trying to piece themselves back together. The Citadel had been decimated and placed hovering above the human home world of Earth, while the Mass Relays laid in shambles. With the Council disbanded and a great deal of the surviving forces decimated, it was decided that marshal law would be enacted, if only until a stable galactic government could be established. A coalition of the different races' high commands brought the worlds to order and focused their efforts to rebuilding, lead, with almost unanimous agreement, by the human Alliance.

On a small salarian world, whose name no one could really pronounce or remember, a research installation had been instituted. While it had been used for excavation purposes, which were still in affect for a majority of those stationed there, a portion was re-purposed by the Alliance for other means. No one was really sure what studies were occurring, but what they did know was that, every year or so, they would ship in and out civilians to be housed. Strangely, they were always human, ranging in age and holding different health statuses. One thing was clear, though: all of them were sick. They would be isolated from the soldiers and scientists, the healthier ones brought out every so often for walks or to sit in the sunlight. The normal residents were advised not to converse or even come in contact with the ill, especially those who weren't on the team working directly with them. Even if it was never explained why, no one ever cared to ask. It was the Alliances business, after all, and they had other duties to attend to.

Duties such as the ones his brother was neglecting..._again_. As soldiers following orders from the Turian Hierarchy, it was their job to watch over the scientists at the excavation site and make sure bandits didn't attempt to land and raid the place. There were priceless artifacts—well, priceless to someone—that could provide significant insight into past societies, especially concerning interactions with the Reapers. It helped that most of the work was done within the safety of a mountain, but there were still enough entrances to cause fear of a security risk. What importance that held anymore, he wasn't sure, but then again, it didn't really matter. He just wanted to do his time and go back to building his home and back to his beloved wife. That is, _if_ he could keep both himself and his brother from getting discharged.

Caien was not used to being the responsible one; growing up the youngest had the benefit of minimized obligation. Even after his older brother, Tertius, had enlisted into his unit after the war, he really didn't find that much of a difference in the roles they usually took. Tertius had always been the 'straight-and-narrow' type of person, as the humans put it, doing his work diligently and quietly without much thought outside of serving his people. The one thing he did think about, however, was the one thing that made him start to change.

That was just something he would need to get over. He only had three more years until his mandatory service was done, and at that point he could retire and search for whatever or whomever he pleased.

At least he knew where to find him. Tertius had been situating himself by the administration offices near the one of the cave entrances of the dig site—the area with the most light. While he was technically doing his job by providing a decent outlook, the past few weeks left him in a daze of sorts, his face glued to a data pad or a translation guide. At first Caien figured it was simple curiosity to understand human languages, considering the facilities were littered in cautionary notes left by scientists to some of the slightly less-than-bright Alliance marines. When he started paying more attention, however, he noticed his brother had a much more invested interest than just reading without a translator. At first it was practicing letters and numbers, which slowly evolved into full length notes. It was enough to have him worry. If one of their superiors ever caught him gazing at something other than the perimeter, he could very well be demoted, if not publicly humiliated with a recitation of whatever he wanted to keep private, and he _did_ want it kept private. Caien could tell by the way Tertius quickly folded his work and placed it into his armor whenever anyone, including himself, ever came near.

Tertius' perception of his surroundings was beginning to fade, though. He was losing sleep over whatever was haunting him, and it was becoming painfully obvious by the way he would doze off by the end of their shift. It didn't matter that they worked at night most times; he was fatigued and restless no matter what time of day it was. The day their shift would end by sunrise over the tropical planet was no different.

With his back to him and leaning against a metal cargo crate, Tertius did not have any of his usual scraps of paper or broken writing utensils. All he had was a single piece of clean paper that was written on in dark ink, rubbing the orange marks on his forehead with his hand as he recited what was there in a hardly audible mumble. He appeared so engrossed in his reading that Caien made an effort not to walk up directly behind him, stepping into his peripheral vision before speaking.

"Hey," Caien spoke in the silence of the morning, his brother jumping slightly from out of his concentration.

"Oh, hey," he replied quickly but tiredly, pinching the paper closed with two fingers. He squinted as he glanced around him, his mandibles lifting slightly to see an orange haze settling above the thick trees lining the path away from the site. "Uh...What time is it?"

"0600. We're off duty," he said flatly, shaking his head as he approached. "How long have you been up here?"

"Since...Hm. 0300? I think?" he thought aloud, unsure himself as he sat back.

"Spirits, Tertius, this is, what, the third night in a row you've done this? You need to get some sleep," he scolded, holding both concern and annoyance in his voice. Without hesitation he reached over, grabbing the one paper that was still resting in Tertius's hand. Though his brother objected, he still looked it over to find that he couldn't make any sense of it. "What's this suppose to be?"

"Nothing," he answered, attempting to take it back from him.

"Well, you certainly did a lot of nothing last night with all these scribbles," he smirked, batting his brother's hand away and reaching for the device nestled against the rim of his eye. "Let's see if the translator can say anything about it—"

"I said it's nothing," he growled, forcefully slipping it away from Caien's talons. They stared at one another in a moment of tension before he sighed, resting his head against his right hand. "Just...stop asking, alright? I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You're practically livid about the whole thing and have been for over a year now," he stated honestly, shrugging. He was just as tired of side-stepping the truth, and now was a good enough time as any to finally bring it to light. "But I get it. Look, I don't know what went down between you two or why you haven't been able to contact her since, but I get it. Just try to start focusing on other things."

Tertius chuckled inwardly, smoothing out the crumpling piece of paper before sliding it into a side compartment in his armor. "I appreciate your concern, Caien, but I'd be lying if I said you weren't starting to sound like father."

"Really, Tertius? _That's_ what you get out of everything I've said—"

"I'm done," he interrupted quietly, half-turning with his eyes to the dusty ground.

Caein stared for a moment, not entirely sure he had heard him correctly. "Really?"

"Yeah," he nodded, rubbing his eyelids with the crook of his thumb's joint. "The rest were practice. This is the one I've been trying to write, I just...didn't know what to say. But it's done now."

Tertius looked up to find his brother standing silently, an expression of quiet disbelief riddled on his features. He couldn't blame him for being suspicious of his intentions; after all, he really had been distant for some time. Yet he was glad Caien tried to understand as best he could, even if it did come off in the usual harsh, brotherly way. He was even more relieved when his sibling nodded shortly, clearly his throat and pointing out towards the main facility.

"We should be off then," he said, patting Tertius on the shoulder. "I've had enough of this place for one day."

"Really?" Tertius asked, stretching his arms above his head as they began to head down the dirt path lined with large palms that swayed in the wind. "Anything interesting happen down below today?"

"Oh yes, my excitement can hardly be contained," he scoffed, shaking his head. "All they're looking at down there is a bunch of broken pottery and maybe, _maybe_ a few skeletons, but even they don't know if that's what they are."

"Skeletons, huh?" he chuckled. "Hasn't this place been dated to around 50,000 years? Why would there be skeletons in a tropical environment?"

"That's what I was wondering! Knowing them, it's probably just some stone that was chipped off to look like bone and they're a little over zealous about it at the moment," he shrugged. "Still, they're thinking about opening that main atrium chamber in a few days, so maybe that will be something to talk about."

"One can only hope," he replied. "Otherwise we might all die from boredom in there and end up under someone's microscope in a few millenniums."

"At least then it'll be something interesting."

Caien could tell that his brother was standing a little taller, breathing in the air with a sense of calmness about him. He didn't want to ask why there was a sudden change in his attitude, even though he knew he would never get a straight answer anyway. It was enough to know that he would be alright.

The raw ground eventually lead into a curved, stone path, the trees falling away to reveal a large facility etched into a small cliff side. Circling around the front of it was an ocean shoreline, the white sand of its beach showing hardly any signs of activity. A small ways away and diverging from the same route they walked contained a shuttled they had not seen before, making them pause briefly to examine it. Apparently the new Alliance recruits had landed early, though there was something else about it that was troubling. Considering what the shuttle could contain, Tertius knew there was only one reason why his brother was staring so intently at the sight as he was.

"I guess they're bringing in a new shipment of those people," Caien stated lowly, straightening his back and setting his arms stiffly at his sides.

"It's about that time of year again," he replied reassuringly, patting him on the shoulder, "and I know you don't want to wait around for them to go by. The sooner we get back, the sooner you can message Keeda."

"Yeah, and whose fault is that?" he shot back, shifting his gear uneasily.

"Yours for not coming to get me sooner," he chuckled, Caien throwing back a spiteful glance as he began to carry on.

Tertius knew that they made Caien nervous in the way he always had his talons fixed in a position to grab his pistol quickly during the rare occurrence when they had to cross paths. As extreme as it seemed, he honestly couldn't say that his fear was unfounded. He wasn't too sure of them himself, what with the necessity of armed escorts. This group was particularly peculiar in the way the soldiers were not only armed, but _armored_, including thick, assault-grade helmets. Those who emerged from the small shuttle unequipped appeared harmless enough, walking wearily as they were straightened into lines and helped along by the salarian scientists that had come to greet them. What made him slow his pace and even his brother gaze over curiously was the way they were dressed. Their heads were partially covered by hoods, their eyes blindfolded and their ears plugged with small devices that, presumably, blocked out sound, given the way some jumped at the slightest touch of someone speaking to them. It was a procedure neither of them had seen before, but it was something they knew they shouldn't linger on for too long, whether because it was protocol for them to do so or the sinking gut feeling they both had.

The tensest moment of their stroll came when the path from the shuttle pad merged with the one towards the facility, the two turian brothers needing to share the walkway with the ghostly beings they would not be seeing much of again. While they managed to keep their distance on the far edge, they were still within arms reach of any number of the new arrivals, even brushing against some of the soldiers who passed by. It was hard for them to feel at ease with the silence that struck the air, but their nervousness grew even worse when they began to hear a voice coming from the shuttle and proceed towards them. It was coming from a woman who seemed a rather odd addition to the group, going on and on about something that they didn't have the context to figure out. Another woman stood next to her and held her arm, as if the one chatting would lose track of where she was going and wander away. Still, that didn't prevent her from stumbling in her obviously awkward fitting shoes, scuffing in an attempt to make them fit better but eventually stopping in a huff. She hopped on each foot to pull them off, tossing them without caring which direction they were thrown and continuing in her previous, one-sided conversation.

As Caien shuffled his feet to avoid stepping on one of the shoes thrown in front of him, Tertius could almost see his brother's plates stand on end. He prevented himself from outwardly laughing at the hilarity of it, pausing to reach down and pick it up. Caien gave him a look as if he had just grabbed a diseased animal, planting his mandibles close to his face and shaking his head. Tertius shrugged silently, turning back to find that the woman who had been aiding the other civilian had broken rank to take the other shoe in hand. Though he couldn't see her face from the hood drawn down over her eyes, he could tell she wasn't blinded or purposefully deafened like the others with the way she responded to his voice; a permanent caretaker, perhaps.

"Here you go," he said quietly to get her attention when she searched the ground. His brow plates lowered curiously when she suddenly stopped, keeping herself half-turned to him. "Um...Your shoe? Well, your colleague's sho—"

He was cut short when she shuttered her steps towards him quickly and snatched the item away, tucking it under her left arm. From under her long, right sleeve he could tell she was nervously fiddling with her gloved fingers, her head bobbing up and down slightly to look at him under the concealment of shadow. Tertius blinked slowly, knowing he should just leave her be. He couldn't help but notice the brass chain hanging loosely around her neck, however, starkly contrasting against her grayish-white attire. Attached to it was something he hardly remembered, yet began to smile in seeing it.

"St. Christopher, right?" he inquired softly, the woman hurriedly looking down at her chest and slapping her hand across to cover it. He twitched slightly with her reaction, shaking his head. "No, I didn't mean anything by it. It's just...I had a friend once who—"

"Prima," a harsh voice spoke over him, the woman quickly glancing towards the shuttle. Tertius's eyes followed, seeing a man in heavy, black and red armor step away from the open shuttle doors and approach them. His tone became softer when he walked up beside her, the woman's features almost fully shadowed by his massive frame. "Get Cassandra inside. We can't have her getting antsy and taking her blinds off until she gets settled."

An awkward laugh erupted from the woman standing behind them, running her hand through her messy brown hair. Oddly enough, it seemed she could hear them quite well, even if she had the same sound-canceling ear devices the others had.

"Don't worry, señor Vega! I promised to be a good little girl this time!" she said almost tauntingly, her companion hurriedly taking her arm and guiding her into the facility. Though the man stepped in front of Tertius's view to watch them go, he could still hear the woman until she disappeared behind a locking door. "You know him? Oh, shush! You can't lie to me! Even Charlie knows, and you know he's never wrong about these things! So where's he from?"

"Hey," the man began, nodding his head underneath his helmet. With the surroundings growing quieter, Tertius began to notice a distinct accent in the man's vocals even through the garbled static of the internal headset. "You're kindness is a nice change, but please be a little more careful when dealing with them."

"Of course," Tertius answered, not entirely sure what to make of the encounter. "You're the new commander of the Alliance operations, I take it?"

"You'd be correct," he replied, nodding shortly and reaching to remove his helmet. It was strange to see it pressure-locked, releasing with a hiss before he placed it under his arm and extended his hand. "Lieutenant Commander James Vega, N6."

"Tertius Aquilin, response team," he shook the man's hand, gesturing his head to the other turian that approached. "This is my brother, Caien."

"Good to meet you both," the man said, glancing over to the shuttle nearby, presumably to make sure things were getting done in a timely manner.

"N6?" Caien began, his right mandible twitching slightly with curiosity. "You're one of the higher ranking special force units, aren't you?"

"Yeah. This is one of our last missions before graduating."

Caien huffed, "Kind of a bit much for a glorified babysitting job, don't you think?"

"No, I don't," James answered flatly, returning his helmet to his head. "Excuse me."

The two stared after him as he returned to the shuttle, shouting muffled orders to the other soldiers finishing their work. Caien's face plates stood slightly on end, scratching the orange markings under his eyes in confusion. Tertius sighed, shaking his head.

"Way to get on the new guy's good side," he scoffed.

"What? What did I say?" he chuckled loosely, waving a dismissive hand as he began to walk away. "I'm too tired for this. I'll see you at 2100."

"Yeah, see you then," he muttered.

The stars that were barely visible overhead vanished by the time he made it around the building to the side entrance. The open breezeway to the staircases for the living quarters was quite empty, save for a few grumbling officers making their way to morning shifts. That, or they were saying goodbye affectionately to their partners. Civilians other than those that the Alliance brought to facility were not allowed, save for a few occasions out of the year if the solider was prevented from taking shore leave. Perhaps he should have been happy for them, but he couldn't help but feel irritated. Tertius just didn't quite understand the necessity or why they couldn't just go off-world. He would admit, though, that his feelings might have stemmed from a bit of jealousy.

As he made his way to his room three flights up, the downtrodden thoughts didn't pass his mind. In fact, not much of anything went through his head except for taking the slightly crumpled note hidden away in his pocket. He barely took his gaze off it to open his door, his heavy eyes having difficulty reading the foreign script clearly. Running over it once with a translation device nestled against his face, he finally put the paper down long enough to remove his armor.

Tertius exhaled the breath pent up in his chest, glancing up to the ceiling as he rolled his shoulders. Out of all the things that weighed on his mind, and all the things his brother would never know, the guilt was the worst part. He had come to terms that she was probably angry with him. In fact, he had decided to be completely alright with whatever reason she had to cut ties with him. What he could not face, however, was how it all went awry. After their last conversation she had just...disappeared. Her com channels were no longer accessible and no one at the Alliance base she was staying at seemed to acknowledge her existence. It was like she had just vanished without a record that her life ever occurred. He had considered contacting her only living relative, be he had no idea if her elderly grandmother would have the means to understand turian or even have the desire to.

Everything they had experienced, spoke about, shared—it only existed within the confines of his mind. He blamed himself for it, that he had caused her to get so angry and cut off their last transmission. For all he knew, she had pushed those things away from herself, and in it he was trapped within the memories they both once had. In the end he didn't need to know why she had become so irate or why she didn't get in touch with him. After everything they had been through, all he wanted to know was if she was okay.

It didn't make his work any easier when he couldn't find sleep half the time. Even if he could maneuver to his closet and put on his standard uniform and armor, his head was always elsewhere, either thinking about if he should write something to her or trying to shut off in an attempt to recharge. On that particular morning, though, he found himself with a clear state of mind, managing to pull off each boot without fumbling and take the note back into his hand. While his unknowing still rested heavily on his shoulders, everything else that had been running rampant in his brain had almost been peeled away and placed onto the paper he had been writing. Everything he had wanted to say to her was at least externalized and, although she may never get a chance to read it, at least he had managed to pull it away from himself for the time being.

He rolled his shoulders as he went to the closet situated just before the hall to his bedroom. Opening its doors, he reached to the shelf above his head, grabbing a little metal container that held many other folded notes. They were all jumbled in no particular way, but he took care in placing the one he held upright along the edge. Returning it to its rightful place, he knew he could let the past go for a while. It was enough that he could open his bedroom window to let a breeze in while he slept; he had forgotten how much he enjoyed the cool ocean air. He didn't even think to close his bedroom door before groaning with ache into his bedding, hardly remembering to set his alarm before falling unconscious.

It had been a long four years, but he had finally found a way back to his dreams.

Even if it was only for a few hours before smoke began to wisp across his nose.


	2. How Does It Hide?

Chapter Two  


How [Does] It Hide?  


If it hadn't been for the sulfurous wisps burning at his nostrils, he knew he would have slept well after his alarm went off. He could feel it in the way his muscles tensed when he rolled over, his clothes drenched in sweat from the afternoon sunlight beating on his chest. The day had turned out to be hotter than he had expected, even with the breeze coming from the open window. Of course, if there hadn't been a breeze and the awful stench that it carried, he probably would have been cooked like a crustacean with a nasty burn needing to be explained to his superiors on his exposed neck.

Agitated in his grogginess, he changed into a lighter weight, long-sleeved shirt before heading out shoeless. Some of the Alliance soldiers had been known to smoke in the back of the facility to keep from getting reprimanded by their superiors, but no matter how discrete they tried to be the smoke would always travel around the area. Since the main building was in a small cove of sorts, the wind tended to circulate every scent, good or bad. It didn't help that his quarters were in the direct path of where most chose to stand.

He had stopped trying to be quiet when he went to interrupt anyone a while ago; after about the tenth or eleventh time of telling the same people to put down the cigar, he eventually didn't care whether they were caught or not. The talons on his feet made loud clangs on the metal staircase as he descended into the breezeway. Hearing distant conversation through open apartment doors he was too tired to care about, he grumbled about privacy conduct and how lax people were becoming. It was a tropical world, of course everyone would consider it a vacation! No one would ever think about the repercussions of saying whatever secrets they had for the whole camp to hear, regardless of whether anyone wanted to hear them or not.

Squinting even in the shadow of the building, he emerged to the open air with a hand rubbing the orange marks under his eyes. Tertius tried to think of something new to say to the same humans he had seen many times over, but lately his vocabulary had been reduced to a word or two and an angry glare. The cliched expression that he was "getting too old" came to mind, and he grinned as he shifted his weight to finally look at his side.

What he saw made him pause, his thoughts becoming blank. The person sitting there was not a gruff soldier looking for a break, nor was it anyone from the Alliance. A woman sat at the end of the bench situated at the back wall's corner, the hood over her head moving slightly as a sign that she had been looking at him only moments before. She was one of the civilians that had arrived, or at least one he had never seen before. Her gray and white attire starkly contrasted the vibrant colors of the natural surroundings, Tertius noticing that every inch of her was covered aside from her right hand. That, too, was ghostly pale, a large, blackened scar streaked across her palm and, from what he could see, extending through to the back of her hand. He could only assume that it was exposed to keep the tarry substance of the cigarette she was smoking off her bleached glove.

"Morning," he greeted roughly, his throat dry and raspy. Pausing, he looked around to the placement of shadows on the ground, rolling his shoulders. "Or is it afternoon yet?"

She nodded her head towards him in acknowledgment.

There was something about her that he couldn't quite place, her demeanor seeming oddly nervous by the way she tapped her left fingers against the metal bench. Her gray hood was pulled down over her eyes again, only exposing her darkly tinted lips to the air. They were almost blue in color, something he hadn't seen in a human since he preformed reconnaissance on Noveria. Just the name of that awful planet made a shiver roll down his spine and he was sure to quickly remember why he was standing there.

Though his usual routine was jumbled in his thoughts, he knew he still had to tell her the issue at hand. There was a part of him deep down that worried about the reason for her being there; the reason for her isolation, caretaker or not, was meaningful in some regard, and he questioned how close he could get. Still, he didn't want make her any more anxious than she already seemed, approaching her slowly.

"Smoke break, then? I can only assume it's stressful working over there," he began, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall next to the bench.

He noticed out of the corner of his eye that she shifted uncomfortably, inhaling her cigarette slowly. Clearing his throat as she flicked the ash away, a notion crossed his mind he hadn't considered. Although it was rare, there was a possibility that she had never met someone outside of the human race before. That or she previously had bad experiences with non-humans. Whatever the reason, he was beginning to feel almost apologetic for her situation, regardless of whether she was the one causing the problem.

"I'm Tertius Aquilin, by the way," he continued. "I'm with the Hierarchy protecting the dig site up over that ridge. There's a bunch of us around here, but, uh...Despite our appearances I swear we turians aren't dangerous."

A solitary chuckle lifted from her chest, closed off from meeting the air by the paper stick stuck between her teeth. He wasn't entirely sure if it was out of sarcasm or if it was a genuine laugh, but it seemed to put her at ease. Taking that as an opportunity to rest his increasingly aching feet, he sat on the farthest corner of the bench away from her. She was quick to move her hand away yet remained relaxed, glancing away from him and out to the open sea at her right.

"Look, I don't care if you're hiding that from someone. I'm not going to tell anyone," he said, watching her look back at him slowly with a dawning realization. "I live right upstairs and I can't get much sleep as it is with how hot these damn summers get. If you want to smoke back here just keep it...away..."

His words drifted as she inhaled the rest of what remained, Tertius wincing slightly in thinking how much that had to burn. She didn't seem phased by it, however, taking the tarred, ashy end and flicking it away. Wiping her hands along the grated metal bench, she patted down her dress, pausing when she couldn't seem to find something. Looking around from her seat for a moment, he followed her actions, seeing her become almost frantic as she stood. Clearly something was missing and, although he probably should have gone about his way, he couldn't help but ask.

"Something wrong?" he wondered, hearing her huff in frustration and stand straight. She lifted her exposed hand, Tertius opening his mouth slightly in embarrassment. "Oh, uh..."

He stood without hesitation, glancing around his rear to find he had been sitting on it. How it got there, he didn't quite know; he needed to pay closer attention to his surroundings, obviously. Picking up the five-fingered garment, he held it out to her in his open palm, flicking a small smile.

"Sorry about that." There was an awkward pause, the woman just staring at his hand with her body half turned to him. His brow furrowed, reaching out to place the item into her possession. "Here, I'm not going to—"

_'Please just go away!'_

He caught his breath in his chest, turning his head towards the horizon. It sounded like someone was shouting in a panic from a distance—someone human—but there were only other turian soldiers on the beach. They didn't even react to the sound, going out their daily patrols. Looking back, he felt the glove slip from his fingers, the woman gently taking it away from him with her other covered hand.

"Did you hear that?" he asked. She shook her head in a reply, keeping her gaze to the ground.

Tertius stood there for a moment, taking a closer look at her appearance. With a glint hitting his eyes, he finally noticed the chain around her neck; it was attached to the brass medallion hooked on the collar of her dress. Though he attempted to say something more, she did not wait for him to speak, covering her hand as she quickly walked away towards the outer facilities.

It took a few minutes before she could feel his gaze leaving her. Though, as she glanced behind her and didn't see him, she questioned whether it had been him or any of the others she passed in the beach sands. The air seemed to shift quickly the closer she approached the containment site, coming across more of the Alliance soldier who were leery of her very presence. She couldn't blame them, however, and tried her best to keep her hood pulled over her eyes. There was a fleeting moment when she wondered if she should have stayed conversing with the turian man a little longer; as much of a lie as it was, it had been nice to pretend to be normal.

The creeping paranoia did bother her the more she considered it. Maybe she was just adjusting to the new surroundings, or perhaps it was the men and women who dreaded being there. What began to worry her to most was if both these presumptions were wrong. Perhaps she was in need of another examination, just to make sure nothing was getting to her. Then again, perhaps that was the worst thing to bring up at that time, considering how things were just falling into place.

Well, most things, anyway.

The facility that housed the civilians—the sick ones, anyways—was not what it appeared from the outside. Presumably, it would have been a regular medical ward, filled with labs and personnel keeping busy throughout the day. Instead was a secured, combination-locked door that was at least a meter thick, made of some sort of asari invented alloy that even a biotic would have difficulty penetrating. From there was a small hallway and, while there were windows that shined into the area, the sunlight was met by another reinforced wall. There was another door similar to that of the entrance a small ways away, twice as thick as the last and needing to be unlocked by a manual switch. If at any time it was deemed necessary, the switch could be removed from the outside, leaving those within trapped in the confines of an air-tight tomb.

Still, as isolated as it was the place showed some promise. The salarian scientists that rushed back and forth through the halls weren't bothered by the presence of the ill, but seemed rather elated. It was possible that the human sickness didn't affect other species like they had theorized, which would make coming to a world filled with only non-humans half way across the galaxy more reasonable. Even the Alliance soldiers who patrolled the area seemed comforted in the fact that a thick wall and a few decontamination chambers separated them from that which could cause them harm. That is, until they caught a glimpse of her white robes crossing around a corner. All conversation stopped when that happened.

The only human who was even remotely okay with the situation at any given time was one Lieutenant Commander James Vega who, at that moment, was conversing with one of the salarian doctors. They stood in front of a viewing screen, speaking in low tones as they observed several different rooms and the people being placed into them. She lowered her hood down as she approached, glancing about the small laboratory.

"So how long do you think they'll need to stay here?" Vega asked quietly, glancing over his shoulder to find her by the door.

"However long the Alliance gives us or how long they last, whichever comes first," the man replied. "We're close to a breakthrough on this, but Cerberus they...well, as you say, 'did a number' on these people."

"Prima, we were just talking about you," Vega said, talking louder to sweep away the pessimism settling in the air. "Where'd you run off to?"

"Where do you think?" she asked snidely, Vega's cheery disposition quickly fading into a stern silence.

The salarian man looked between the two of them, sensing the sting of aggravation and hurriedly trying to put an end to it. He extended a hand to her, taking in her feature momentarily before speaking. Her blond hair was messy and long, but wasn't unusual for a human. What was odd was the embroidered cloth that circled her head and covered her right eye, yet did not conceal deep, blackened scars that extended in lines from the bridge of her nose and temple to her jaw. A strange custom, indeed.

"Greetings! I take it that you're 2nd?"

She paused, taking in his jumbled sentences before realizing how she had been addressed. "Yes, that's what they call me. 2nd."

Taking the man's hand and shaking it, she glanced over to Vega, noticing that his brown eyes were beginning to darken in thought. It made her laugh a little inside.

"Good to see you. My name is Nilan Dairu, assistant director of the program."

She squinted her eyes, her brow lowering slightly. "I know you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Yeah, we met a while ago. You were with the C-Sec crew that went to Sanctuary. Rescued two little asari girls and a human that was too stupid for her own good."

"Oh...Oh! Yes, I remember now!" he smiled, twitching nervously when he recalled why they were there. "I am sorry...about your eye."

"I'm sure that's what you were about to say," she chuckled.

"Prima," Vega spoke up, stepping next to her as he headed for the door. "I need a word with you."

"Of course you do," she sighed, waving a goodbye before following. "It'll be nice working with you."

"And with you. Good day," Dairu nodded solemnly, returning to his work at the video screen.

With the way Vega walked into the hall, a person could have sworn he was heading to reprimand a soldier that was out past curfew. Any other moment she would have been amused at the sight, but that very thought made her cringe. The way he looked at her when he turned around made her blood run cold; that is, colder than it usually was. When they were in an empty area, he rubbed his forehead, his jaw shifting as if he was grinding his teeth.

"Where the hell were you?" he whispered, cautious of anyone around the next corner. "You do realize your tracker hasn't been activated yet, right?"

"You do realized I have limited access to the grounds, right?" she replied in a rasp, hesitating to hear such a reaction from him. "Calm down, _Mr. Nanny_, I'm fine."

"Remember the last time you could roam around?" he questioned, his quick thought trailing at the end in a less angry way. Rather, his temper shifted to remorse, almost regretting he had brought it up. "Just because this isn't Earth doesn't mean—"

"Yes, I got put into a box," she hissed, pointing an accusing finger at him. "And you know what? You're right! This isn't Earth, but I was moved from one box and put into bigger box! But wait! It has a pretty new aquarium background! And yet it's a box with the same regulations, the same experiments, the same people who want to kill me to make sure it doesn't happen to them! So if I want to step out for a damn smoke, I'm sure as sin going to do it! And you know as well as I do that you can't stop me!"

He stared at her intently, pausing to think of his words carefully. "You wouldn't stop me."

"Neither would you," she retorted, her exposed eye beginning to twitch.

Vega sighed, stepped around her to head back to the observatory station. "Don't make me have to, Mary."

* * *

A/N I'll update much more frequently, guys. Please forgive the few busy weeks I had... D:


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